


Hot Cold Heat

by gold_ty95



Series: Kinktober 2020 [7]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Kinktober 2020, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sub Nakamoto Yuta, Temperature Play, Wax Play, this isn't an a/b/o fic i know the titles sus but there are no omegas here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27149392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gold_ty95/pseuds/gold_ty95
Summary: He isn’t exactly nervous. The feeling’s a bit different, more like anticipation than anything else.But blindfolded and tied to the bed, all he can do is strain his ears and try to listen to the subtle clink of ice against a glass.Written for Kinktober 2020: wax play/temperature play
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta
Series: Kinktober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973872
Comments: 4
Kudos: 87





	Hot Cold Heat

The room is quiet except for Yuta’s own labored breathing, and the silence is almost suffocating, in a way. The blindfold doesn’t help to calm his nerves, and he feels himself clenching and unclenching his fists where they’re pinned above his head against the bed’s headboard.

He isn’t exactly nervous. The feeling’s a bit different, more like anticipation than anything else. It doesn’t make his stomach flutter with anxiety, but it does bring a bit of a thrill that thrums steadily beneath his skin. There are goosebumps all over his limbs, and whether they’re from the anticipation or the feeling of the cool air against his bare body, he doesn’t know.

Sicheng is in here somewhere. He hadn’t heard the door open, and as mean as his boyfriend could be, Yuta knows he’d never leave him alone like this, when he’s tied up and waiting so patiently. But he can’t hear him, and an inkling feeling crawls at the back of his mind and whispers that maybe Sicheng _has_ left him, and it’s this thought that has his chest heaving with the effort of breathing.

He tells himself to be patient. Sicheng is mean, yes, but he isn’t downright cruel. He takes care of Yuta as much as Yuta wants to be taken care of, and this time won’t be any different.

It’s when he shows just a twinge of apprehension—only a tilt of his head—that he feels Sicheng’s touch for what feels like the first time in forever. His hand is light as it drags down Yuta’s chest, fingers dancing in its wake. But even if this is the softest of touches, Yuta has been reduced to the desperate need to be touched, and the second he feels skin against his, he gasps.

“Quiet,” Sicheng shushes him, but even his order is spoken softly. His voice comes from above him, and Yuta leans his head up in a silent request for a kiss.

It goes, unnoticed, though, and he has to bite back the urge to whine when Sicheng pulls away altogether. The air is cold where his hand had been.

Somewhere beside him, he hears a lighter, and the way his heartbeat picks up so suddenly almost has him gasping again. The thrill has morphed from a steady thrum into a liquid bliss that travels with the blood pumping in his vein—adrenaline. But it isn’t the adrenaline he gets when he rides rollercoasters or when he’s performing on stage, no. This is different, somewhat more soothing than either of those could ever be. 

Fingers card through his hair, and once again he finds himself having to force his mouth shut. Sicheng had asked for quiet, so Yuta would give him just that, even if it meant bruising his lips with how badly he bites down on them.

“You’re hard,” Sicheng says flatly. Yuta squirms uncomfortably, practically feeling his boyfriend’s eyes on him. “Want to tell me why?”

A steady heat rises in his cheeks and he tilts his head away from where Sicheng’s voice is coming, embarrassed with his own lack of self-control. The plain truth is that he’s hard because it’s impossible not to be when Sicheng has him like this; naked, blindfolded and tied to the bed.

“Yuta,” his voice is stern, “why are you hard?”

With much effort, he stops squirming and takes a deep, shaky breath.

“Because… because this feels good.”

“Oh yeah?” Sicheng tugs at his hair lightly. “Being tied up like a whore feels good?”

“Y-yes.”

“Ah, so you _are_ a slut.”

“No, I—”

“Shut up,” Sicheng snaps. “That wasn’t a question. Now stay quiet.”

Yuta’s breath hitches and he squeezes his eyes closed beneath the blindfold, but he doesn’t open his mouth to say anything. He hears a quiet hum that’s laced with approval, and that’s enough to ease the burn of Sicheng’s words.

“Since your dick is being such an attention whore, I’ll start there.”

He isn’t sure what his boyfriend means until he feels the first ice cube touch the base of his cock. It makes his hips jump and a gasp rip through his throat, which only earns him a harsh slap against his cheek that shuts him up immediately.

There’s nothing for a few moments, just Yuta trembling with the increasingly distant memory of the ice cube that’d been snatched away just as quickly as it came. Then he feels it again, this time pressed underneath his dick in the space between his balls, and he’s prepared enough to stop himself from making any noise.

Sicheng keeps it there for only a few seconds before he glides it down Yuta’s balls, between his ass, and finally against his rim, where he holds it until his thighs start shaking. Then, he just lets go of it and lets it slip onto the bedsheets, still pressed against Yuta’s skin as an insistent reminder.

The second cube is placed in the space between his collarbones and he immediately stills to stop it from gliding down and off his body. Sicheng doesn’t acknowledge his struggle, though, only takes a third and drags it up Yuta’s torso, teasing around his nipples but never touching them. This one is abandoned on the dip of his hip bone when Sicheng glides it back down, making it a point to drag it between every curve of his muscles.

Yuta has only gotten harder with every cold touch against his skin. The cubes on his body are already melting, but the cold doesn’t subside even for a second and Sicheng doesn’t seem to want to give him a break. 

A hand curls around his dick, but he gets roughly a second of relief before an ice cube slips between Sicheng’s palm and his erection. He arches his back and bares his neck and immediately regrets it when he feels the ice cube in his clavicles slip down his shoulder and onto the bed, right beneath a sensitive bit of his neck.

Sicheng is ruthless and doesn’t show him mercy, keeps jerking him off with the ice cube in his hand and pretends he can’t hear how ragged Yuta’s breath has gotten or how hard he’s trying to keep himself quiet. When one part of his dick starts getting numb with the cold, Sicheng will twist his hand so the cube is pressed up in a warmer spot, and the stark difference in temperature makes Yuta curl up and into himself.

A hand pushes onto his chest and forces him back down.

“Be good.” Sicheng twists his hand again and he throws his head back with the effort of keeping in the groan threatening to spill. “I’m only giving you what you want.”

He keeps touching him like this until the cube melts into nothing, but even then it’s still torture because of how cold his hand is. Eventually, Sicheng pulls away and Yuta has a second to breathe before his boyfriend’s other hand—warm and slick with lube—cups his dick, and this time he can’t stop his moan.

“Shut up,” Sicheng barks, pulling away. Yuta doesn’t know whether to be grateful or not. There’s the sound of ice cubes clinking against each other before Sicheng continues, “Open up for me, Yuta.”

His body listens before his mind even processes the order, jaw going slack as he opens his mouth wide enough for an ice cube to slip inside. A gentle finger hooks under his chin and silently demands he close his mouth, so he does.

It’s so cold it’s near painful inside his mouth, but Yuta wills his muscles to relax and lets the ice melt against his tongue. It’s worth the gentle praise Sicheng whispers, and even more worth it when he leans down and presses his mouth against Yuta’s before he licks against the seal of his lips.

“You’re being so good, baby,” he says, and it’s whispered against Yuta’s skin. “So good for me.”

Then he pulls away completely and Yuta immediately misses the warmth of his body.

There’s some rustling around him and he tries to tell what’s going on but it’s proven impossible. His mind is too mushy and the cold against the roof of his mouth and on his skin distracts him far too much.

This is why it’s so surprising when he feels the wax drop onto his collarbones, where the skin had been cooled and made to be far more sensitive than it would have been without the ice cube. He hisses with the burn, trying to get away from it but unable to as the liquid slowly hardens and clings onto his body.

Sicheng shushes him gently, carding his fingers through his hair again.

“Silent, Yuta.”

Yuta holds onto his voice like an anchor. He feels his body trembling all over, his skin buzzing with the anxious wait. His muscles have tensed again, and he can already feel how sore they’re going to be tomorrow.

The next bit of wax is drizzled across his stomach and it makes his spine curl into itself in surprise. The wax is hot when it touches his skin, but it cools down quickly enough. It’s still difficult, though, with how sensitive his skin has become considering all the light touches and ice cold. Every drop of the hot liquid is like a jolt to his nerves, making him jump and twitch and squirm around against the bedsheets.

And just as he starts to get used to it, Sicheng brings another ice cube onto his hot skin.

“Ngh!” he cries, twisting his torso away and spitting out the last bit of the ice cube in his mouth. Sicheng clicks his tongue and brings his hand down on Yuta’s cheek, harsher than the first time.

“ _Silent_.”

Yuta quivers, rendered useless for a few moments. Tears spring into his eyes and almost immediately spill over and onto his cheeks, where the blindfold absorbs them. He feels it dampen against his skin, and desperately prays Sicheng won’t notice it. He knows that his boyfriend isn’t done yet, and that crying too early only shows how pathetically riled up he is, but he can’t help it. He feels all too overwhelmed—and yet neglected, like he’s being given what he should want even if it’s really just what Sicheng wants for him.

But it’s asking too much for his ever-attentive boyfriend to completely miss his tears. 

“Oh, Yuta,” he says as he brushes Yuta’s hair back with a cold hand. He flinches at the touch. “Baby, why are you crying?”

He’s unable to bite back the sob he lets out and turns his head to bury his face in the mattress. His entire body feels like it’s being electrocuted, and every touch is a shock to his whole system that has his bones rattling and his lips quivering. 

This isn’t anything they haven’t done before. Sicheng has gone further than this, has been meaner with the way he handles Yuta, but he feels particularly fragile today. 

“Yuta,” Sicheng calls. “Baby, what’s your color?”

He licks his lips and swallows dryly, trying to gather enough thoughts to answer.

“Y-yellow.”

Immediately, Sicheng pries off the blindfold with nimble fingers and sets it aside. Yuta has to blink away the tears and look around wildly until his eyes get used to the light, but when they do, he sees Sicheng’s worried face hovering above him, his brows furrowed and lips pulled into a frown.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“I can’t—” Yuta gasps, his throat itching with every word he speaks, “—I can’t do—it!”

“That’s okay.” Sicheng cups his face and presses a kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, Yuta. I’m being too rough, aren’t I?” Yuta nods slowly, letting more tears roll down his face. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” he whispers. “I just—I can’t stay quiet.” He pauses to search Sicheng’s eyes. “Sorry.”

“No, no, baby. Don’t apologize, it isn’t your fault.”

“But I—”

“Yuta.” Sicheng brushes his thumb against his cheekbone. “It isn’t your fault.”

Yuta hesitates before he nods again, closing his eyes when he feels lips pressed against his. They kiss for a few moments until Sicheng pulls away with a final nip at his bottom lip.

“I’m going to continue now, okay?” he says, and Yuta sees him reach for one of the candles on their bedside table. They’ve melted a good amount already, most of them reduced to less than half of their original size. 

“Yeah…”

“Do you want to keep the blindfold on?”

Yuta almost says yes, just so he can see approval on Sicheng’s face, but he stops himself. His boyfriend has told him time and time again that in moments like these, whatever he says is enough for Sicheng to be proud of him, and he really doesn’t want to keep the blindfold on.

He shakes his head no, and Sicheng offers him a smile.

“Pretty.”

It’s much better after that. Yuta’s skin still feels like a mess of electrical wires, but this time he welcomes the pain with cries and quiet moans that aren’t reprimanded by Sicheng’s stern voice. It feels nice, and every drop of wax on his torso, his legs or his arms is pleasurable.

It only gets better when Sicheng takes his dick in his hand and lets the wax drizzle onto the underside of his dick and down his balls, following a similar pattern to the first ice cube’s. He’s always cautious with how he moves, and even with his half-dazed mind, Yuta can appreciate how meticulously he controls every bit of wax. 

When he starts jacking him off like he did before, with an ice cube between their skin, Yuta realizes just how close he is to the age of his orgasm. 

Sicheng takes notice too, if the way he switches between the ice, the wax and his lubed hand is anything to go by. He jacks Yuta off with precision and ease, twisting at the head right after he’d pressed an ice cube against it, and squeezing at the base where hot wax is cooling.

It feels entirely too good, and Yuta has to scramble to warn him of his orgasm moments before it hits him.

“It’s okay, love,” Sicheng whispers. “You can come.”

“Ah—Sicheng!”

The bliss hits him like a truck. He arches his back up and throws his head back against the mattress, hips stuttering against Sicheng’s hold. The tight curl in his stomach unfurls as he comes in Sicheng’s cold hand, a string of his name rolling off the tip of his tongue with practiced ease.

There are still tears in his eyes when the high wears off. Sicheng keeps working him through it, though, hand ruthless and blissfully ignorant to Yuta’s pained cries and pleas for him to stop.

“There you go,” Sicheng says after he _finally_ lets go of his dick. “You’re okay, baby.”

He tugs at the ropes binding Yuta’s wrist together until they come undone and his arms fall to the mattress with a gentle thud. They talk softly while Sicheng takes a cloth and body oil and clears Yuta’s body of the wax, always mindful of the sensitive bits of his skin.

“You did so good,” Sicheng says once he’s finished. He presses a long kiss to Yuta’s forehead before he lays beside him and pulls him to his side by his waist. “Always such a good boy.”

Yuta smiles.

“Only because you take good care of me.”

They fall asleep like that, tangled in each other’s arms. There are rumors that, to this day, Yuta’s skin still hurts like a bitch.

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaand thats a wrap!!  
> this is the last of the fics i wrote a few weeks ago for kinktober, but i have some requests that I'm finishing up and i might post one of these days so if you want stay tuned!  
> please comment what you thought!! and as always, if you have a request feel free to tell me :p


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